


Blood Versus Water

by spacegeography



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (non violent), AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Gen, Kid Fic, Pre-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegeography/pseuds/spacegeography
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost a year has passed since the Potters died. Remus wants to see Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Versus Water

**Author's Note:**

> *edited to fix typos

It was lucky for Harry that Dudley got sick first. He wasn’t accused, this time, of being dirty and bad for getting poor Duddykins ill.

            That was approximately where his luck ran out. His head hurt, he felt hot and cold at the same time, his throat hurt to swallow, and his breath came out funny sometimes – forceful and hard making his throat hurt worse and his shoulders shake. Crying made it worse, but he hadn’t make the connection so he spent the day doing just that.

            Petunia focused on Dudley, though. She cooed over him, gave him his medicine every four hours (they were running low on children’s cough syrup; she called Vernon to tell him to pick more up on the way home, but until then Harry would just have to fend for himself. It wouldn’t kill him, she reasoned, and poor Dudley was so delicate, he needed it more) and gave him warm juice and ice cream for lunch.

            Harry toddled up to the kitchen table and pointed to Dudley’s juice. “Me too?”

            Petunia lamented having to leave Dudley (who was just starting to perk up and having fun smearing chocolate sauce on his face; she snapped a picture it was so precious) but got up to fill a sippy cup with water.

            “No! Want juice!”

            “Don’t be ungrateful,” Petunia snapped as she shoved the cup towards him. “The juice isn’t for you. It’s Duddykins special treat.” The last time Dudley had seen Harry get juice he had thrown a tantrum, convinced the juice was all gone. So Harry only got water. Honestly, how could Petunia be expected to sacrifice the happiness of her own son for the child of those two freaks?

            Harry sat on the floor with his cup. He took a few sips, but then upturned it over his head. He rubbed the water over his hot forehead.

            Petunia shrieked when she saw him. She snatched the cup way and Harry began to cry. “No! Thirsty!”

            “Too bad,” Petunia said. “You had your chance. And don’t think I’ll change your shirt. Serves you right for being such as stupid, bad boy. Now fetch a towel, you’ve got the floor wet!”

            The day followed much the same for Petunia. Harry continually got under foot. He followed her around, begging to be picked up and saying his head hurt a million times. As if she hadn’t heard him the first time. She said, continually (and continually sharper) “Because you’re sick. Take a nap and stop telling me. It won’t make it any better.” He tried to crawl up the couch when Petunia was trying to have quality time with Dudley. Dudley, rightfully so, pushed him off. It was supposed to be just him and Mummy, after all. Petunia cursed her sister for dying so young and barging in on Duddy’s formative years. How was she ever supposed to form a proper bond if that brat kept pushing in?

            Petunia found, not for the first time, wishing she could keep Harry out of the way of her family. She took a load of laundry past the stairs and stared at the cupboard. If they took out the cleaners and gave him a pillow, it could be a playroom of sorts.

            By early afternoon, Petunia was at her wit’s end form taking care of two sick toddlers. Dudley blew his nose on her grandmother’s doilies; Harry tried to fill the tub and got water all over the bathroom; Dudley knocked a tall stack of Vernon’s files onto the floor; Harry coughed so hard he was sick on the carpet.

            When the doorbell rang, Petunia wanted to cry as hard as the boys.

            She opened the door and said, “I don’t want to buy anything.”

            “Good thing I’m not selling anything,” the man said pleasantly. He smiled, and Petunia noticed a long scar across his cheek. In fact, the more she noticed about him, the more pronounced the creases of her forehead became. His jumper was pilled, his jacket hung loosely off his boney shoulders, his trousers were rolled instead of hemmed, and they were damp at the bottom as if he had been traipsing through wet grass. His hair was longer than was proper and awfully windswept; there were dark circles under his eyes, and though he smiled, he didn’t look happy.

            “My name is Remus Lupin,” he went on. “I knew your sister, Lily.”

            Petunia’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “You’re one of them,” she gasped.

            Remus, incorrectly assuming she meant one of the Death Eaters who killed her sister said quickly, “No! No, goodness, of course not! I was a friend.” He swallowed. “A very good friend. I wanted… I wanted to see Harry. I’d known him, before…”

            Petunia narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t known Lily had any normal friends. She was always with her little freaks, starting with that greasy boy and ending with the husband that got her killed. “He’s ill,” she said flatly. She went to close the door.

            The man stopped the door with his hand. He looked pained, and desperate. “I could come back, then, in a few days, when he’s better. Please, they were like family to me. Couldn’t I see him for a minute now, and come back when he’s better?”

            “You really aren’t one of them?”

            “I swear it. I’ll swear on anything you like.”

            Inside, Dudley began to cry. He set Harry off; Dudley screamed louder, not one to be shown up.

            “Fine,” Petunia said hastily. “Just don’t expect much from him. He’s a beast on a good day.”

            Remus frowned but came in.

            “Don’t expect this means I’ll let you in again, either. I’m watching you. No funny business.”

            Remus nodded. It was fair after all, to be wary under the circumstances.

            He followed her into the sitting room, where he saw Harry at once. His hair was just like James’s. The last time he’d seen him, his hair had still been downy. He and Lily teased James that at least this Potter wouldn’t look like he’d just exploded a cauldron. Harry looked a Remus with his wet green eyes, his face red from fever and crying. Petunia was busy rocking the other (considerably rounder) boy on her hip, so Remus knelt down before Harry.

            “Hello,” he said thickly. He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice pleasant. “I’m your Uncle Moony.”

            Harry looked up at his aunt and cousin. All day he begged to be held, but Aunt Petunia was busy with Dudley. But now… there was someone else who _wasn’t_ focused on Dudley like Aunt and Uncle always were. He lifted his arms and said, “Up.”

            Aunt Petunia whirled around sharply. “He doesn’t want to pick you up!”

            But Remus already stood with Harry in his arms. He seemed awfully small, but Remus wasn’t sure who big two year olds were meant to be, and anyone compared to the heft in Petunia’s arms would be dwarfed.

            “It’s ok,” he murmured to Harry. He pushed his fringe away, thumb lingering on the scar, and frowned at the heat. “Have you given him any m-” He was about to say muggle, but thought Petunia would take it as insulting. “Any medicine?”

            The color drained from Petunia’s face. “Plenty of fluids,” she said.

            Remus always thought it silly that muggles worked so hard and long to find solutions without magic, and the turned around and distrusted their own inventions. He pressed his lips to Harry’s temple and discreetly casted a cooling and soothing charm. Harry looked puzzled at the sudden relief, but stopped crying.

            “There’s a good boy,” Remus said with a smile.

            Harry blinked. “No,” he said. “I bad boy.”

            “What?”

            “Harry!” Petunia took Harry out of Remus’s arms and set him on the floor. “Go on,” she said sternly. Remus watched Harry leave the room with a wrinkled brow. He tried to explain it away. Perhaps he’d been told it once when he’d misbehaved, and it stuck. Children remembered and repeated the oddest things, after all. But it didn’t sit right. Not with all the other peculiarities. Remus could feel it now, could _smell it._

“I’ll be back in a few days,” Remus said.

            That won’t be necessary –”

            Remus held up a hand. “Saturday. Good bye.”

            Remus left. He hated to leave Harry behind, but he had a plan. One that included a certain furry friend.

            On Friday night, with the wards and at the heart of the house, Padfoot stood, morphing fluidly into Sirius.

            “We’ve got to get him out, Moony,” he said immediately and loudly. “Forget about Dumbledore. We’ve got to do it quick.”

            “What have they done?”

            Sirius flopped onto the couch besides the desk Remus was at. “Well, when I first showed, the boys were in the garden. They were happy to see me, you know, but that horse woman came and snatched that fat one up, saying how dangerous and dirty I was, and did that mean dog bite him? Then she went in and just _left_ Harry outside! Imagine I was a mean dog! I stayed with him for hours before the woman remembered to get him.”

            The quill in Remus’s hand snapped.

            “That’s not the worst of it,” Sirius said as he rubbed a hand against his thin face. He was no longer as gaunt as when he first slipped out of Azkaban, but he wouldn’t let Remus feed him up too much. He still had to slip back in, on occasion, to give the impression he was still there full time. If a human saw him, it wouldn’t do to look well cared for. Luckily, it was mostly just dementors, who couldn’t tell the difference between human and animal souls, just how many were in each cell. So long as Sirius left an animal in his place (usually an engorgio’d rat, as some sort of vengeful satisfaction) he could slip in and out of the bars as Padfoot. Remus had notification charms at the Ministry for his name, so he’d always have time to get back for ministry inspections.

            “Go on,” Remus said in a tight voice.

            “That night I was able to watch through the window. I could hear Harry crying, but couldn’t see him. He was in a cupboard, Moony. A bloody cupboard. I thought maybe he’d got himself stuck in there, but the man opened the door, shouted at him, and shut the door again. They’re always shouting at him. And I’d seen him lead into the cupboard again the next day. He used accidental magic to run off once, and they went nuts. They left him locked in there all night! I couldn’t risk transforming in a muggle neighborhood or I would have gotten him out right then and there.”

            “Did you see them hit him?”

            “No but that doesn’t matter, they’re still horrible, we can’t –”

            “I know!” Remus stood and began angrily pacing. “I know. Dumbledore doesn’t, though. He said the blood protection was too important. That the Dursleys were scared of magic, but they’d warm up to him eventually. He said it was still where Harry was safest.

            “Fuck that!” Sirius was standing too, now. “Dumbledore’s always going on about how love is the strongest magic – they don’t love him! _We_ love him, Moony, we’re his family. He’ll be safest with us.”

            Remus nodded. “Tomorrow.”

            “Tomorrow _morning_.”

            “Morning,” Remus agreed.

            “ _Early_ morning.”

            At 7:30 am, Saturday, the doorbell of number 4 Privet Drive rang out in the morning silence.

            There was a lot of grumbling and stomping and a child crying before a large man opened the door. “We’re not buying.”

            “I’m not selling,” Remus said.  It was nowhere near pleasant this time

            Petunia shrieked. “Vernon! It’s the dog! The one who bit Dudders!” she hastily lifted the boy up as he came into the hallway, drawn out by curiosity at his mother’s shouting.

            “You!” shouted Vernon. His face was mottled purple. “Your bloody dog’s been getting in our garden! I ought to have the mutt put down!”

            “He didn’t bite anyone,” Remus said calmly, but glanced at Padfoot to make sure he didn’t look sheepish. The dog was an awful liar.

            Padfoot only pushed his way past Vernon and into the house. Petunia screamed and stood on the coffee table.

            Vernon shouted for Remus to get a handle on his dog. Padfoot scratched at the cupboard under the stairs and barked. Remus pushed his way into the house, too. Vernon yelled for him to get out. Dudley wailed. Padfoot barked louder. Remus’s heart beat loud in his ears.

            Because Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, his family, was locked in a cupboard under the stairs.

            Harry had his hands over his ears when Remus opened to door, so he cast _silencio_ over everyone else.

            “Hey there, pup. You remember me?” Harry shook his head. “Oh. Well, you weren’t feeling too good. I’m your Uncle Moony. Do you want to come out?”

            Harry shrunk away. “No, I bad. Bad boys stay.”

            “You’re not a bad boy, Harry,” Remus said. Padfoot slipped under his arm and nuzzled Harry’s belly, who laughed. “Doggie!” He pet Padfoot with clumsy, hard strokes. Padfoot lay down and showed his stomach, which Harry flopped onto without hesitation.

            “Harry,” Remus said. He stroked Harry’s hair. “You’re not a bad boy, ok? Your Aunt and Uncle have been very naughty to tell you that.”

            “Oh,” Harry said.

            Vernon, who had gotten over the initial shock and indignation of having his voice cut off, grabbed Remus by the collar and dragged him up. He still couldn’t speak, but he was able to get his point across. Remus decided that convincing Harry could come later.

            “Padfoot,” he said. “I think it’s time to go.” Padfoot woofed and nudged Harry until he got to his feet. With a flick of the wand, Remus was released. He scooped up Harry. “We’ll be leaving now. Don’t think, not for a second, that this is done.” He stepped close to Vernon, who was becoming so purple it was a wonder he hadn’t passed out, and hissed, “I won’t be contacting the authorities. Because I would much, much rather deal with you myself. On a full moon, perhaps. You have about two weeks to worry about what that can mean. Don’t bother running. I’ll find you. I’ll be able to _smell_ you and _track_ you.”

            Padfoot growled and snapped his jaws, which Remus thought was a nice effect, but Harry said, “No, bad doggie.”

            Remus lifted the silencing charm, which meant all three Dursleys were once again at full volume. Dudley screamed, Petunia shouted, “What did he say? What does it mean? Vernon! What does it mean he’ll smell you, Vernon!” and Vernon shouted, “Get your bloody dog and that damned freak out of my house! See if I give a hang that he’s gone! He was monster! Good for nothing, like his father! You are all! Freaks who live off welfare, not in the real world, get out, get out, GET OUT!”

            Of course, Remus, Padfoot, and Harry were gone before he got through half of his rant. In the street, it was pleasant; there were birdsongs and a slight breeze.

            “Time to go home, Harry.”

            “I have juice?”

            “Yes, pup, you can have juice.”

            “Ok. Let’s go. Come on, doggie.”

            And Padfoot followed, and they went home.

**Author's Note:**

> this was quick something I wrote because I'd hit a bit of block. I like this AU, so I'll probably do more one-shots from the verse  
> Also, Sirius is around because why not, I wanted him there.


End file.
